Left in the Cold
by Mikkal
Summary: He couldn't feel his fingers. Were they curled into fists? Straighten? Did he even have fingers anymore? Maybe they were cut off and the blood was frozen too that's why he wasn't dead yet.
1. Part 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs

There are 9 parts/chapters. Not in order.

* * *

Left in the Cold

Numb3rs

Mikkal

Part 6

* * *

Metal was cold. It could be hot, it could be a searing, burning inferno that melted his skin to his bones until all that was left were charred remains. But it wasn't. It was cold. Ice cubes stuck to your tongue, the glaciers at the poles, your fingers frozen until it hurt to even keep them still.

He couldn't feel his fingers. Were they curled into fists? Straighten? Did he even have fingers anymore? Maybe they were cut off and the blood was frozen too that's why he wasn't dead yet.

And the only way he could tell he wasn't dead was that his lips could still move, his eyes could still blink, and there was the steady pattern of fog misting from his mouth every few seconds as he breathed.

He moved a little and instantly regretted it as the frozen pain flared and spread through his nerves like cold fire. The seconds breaths turned to ragged panting, he lurched and moaned.

Something sounded, a firework mixed with a crack of lightning. A gunshot that left his ears ringing even if it was so, so far away. He still flinched anyway, sending more cold fire through his body.

"Federal Agents! Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!... I said drop your weapon!"

More gunshots. _Bang_! _Bang_! _Bang_!

He flinched every time. Wrists and metal clanging against each other, his teeth vibrating, lips cracked and bleeding. Blood froze awhile, sticking to his chin and the side of his head. There was more, but_ where_ was the number one question.

And he stopped shivering a while ago. He didn't need anyone to tell him that was bad.

_Bang_! _Bang_! _Bang_!

More gunshots. A firefight. What were they fighting about? Something important if there were guns. And they were Federal Agents.

That was important: _Federal Agents. _That meant something, something significant. His head throbbed and throbbed with his slow beating heart. He couldn't think, his thoughts too slow and sluggish to process anything.

_Bang_!

Nothing followed. Then there were shouts.

"_Clear!"_

"…_Clear!"_

"_Clear!..."_

A faint _"Damnit! Do—!"_

His eyes fluttered open, cracking as crystals broke off. Wait, when did he close them? He tried to lick his lips but there was no saliva. It didn't matter, he was so, so tired. He let his head slide over, smacking against the wall. There wasn't even any pain. Everything was numb.

His eyes closed again. Oh wow, everything really was numb. The only way he could tell he closed his eyes was that he couldn't see anything now. He couldn't remember anything second before, during, and after his idea to close his eyes.

"_D—!"_

"—_an yo—?"_

Maybe he should answer? It took too much effort, but maybe… Whoever they were sounded really worried. He should really know who they are, shouldn't he? It hurt too much to think.

_BANG_!

He didn't flinch, he _jumped_. He tumbled back against a crate, the small of his back glancing off the corner, and then he slammed into the wall.

"_You th—?"_

"_I don_—_ry agai—."_

_BOOM_!

It was so _close_. He cried out, his frozen ear drums more or less shattering. Or at least it felt like they shattered like glass. He writhed in pain—finally feeling pain—knocking stiff shoulders against the crates and wall and floor.

"What do_ yo—?—ve _me that_!"_

The he ceased to move, holding his breath. That was close, that voice was close. Deep and gruff—anger, worry, thinly controlled.

"Don!...Don, answer me!"

He blinked. Don. Don. "D-David?" He croaked, lips cracking and bleeding even more. His voice rasped, sandpaper scraping against the inside of his throat.

"Do_n_! _Don!"_

No. No. Nonono! David was going the wrong way!

He scrambled to his knees, they stung agains the grounds and ice crystals like shards of glass. "D-David!" He croaked again. He lurched to his feet and stumbled to the door on swollen, bare feet. He fell agains the solid doors, shoulder sliding and something popped as he hit it at just the right angle. "David!" He shouted despite the pain _everywhere_. "DAVID!"

A cough tore itself out of his throat, ripping as his body attempted to hack out a lung.

And then there was banging. But it wasn't gunshots, it was on the wall. No, it was on the door, the one he was leaning against. He jerked back, wide-eyed. Why was there banging? What was going on?

"Don? Don, you in there?"

Oh, David. FBI. David. Safety.

He grinned faintly, splitting his lips even more. "D-David."

"Don!" David shouted back. "I got him," now he sounded faint. No, don't go. "Freezer 220, west side of the building. Bring Charlie, it's password protected…Don, help's on the way," he was back. "How you doing in there? You okay?"

He would answer, but he suddenly sagged. Don was tired before, but now he was bone-deep exhausted. It took all of his energy just to keep himself from falling flat on his face, he could barely bring himself to say David's name again let along string words together to give a status report.

"Don?" David said urgently. "Answer me, man."

"Ow," was all he said in reply. Only then did he let himself fall flat on his face.

"Charlie. He's running out of time, get the damn door open."

Charlie. Math. His brother. He was talking too fast for Don to follow, he just let his little brother's voice rush over him. How long has it been since he heard him?

There was a beeping. Four beeps. Two. Then six. The door opened with a cliché hiss.

He still couldn't feel his fingers.

* * *

David rushed in before the medics could, falling to his knees at his boss' side. He winced at the connection to the frozen ground, but he ignored it in favor of checking over Don. The man was too still, covered in frost, lips blue, eyes closed, breathing shallow, his hands cuffed tightly behind his back. So tightly his wrists were rubbed raw and covered in blood. Don struggled—he struggled a lot.

"Don, wake up." He touched Don shoulder gently. There was blood on his chin and on his head. His face was bruised—dark purple and blue marring the side of his face—an open burn on his forehead. No doubt there were more, but he wasn't going to look for them.

Don shifted and moaned in pain. His eyes cracked open, little slits of fever. "D-David," he murmured, grinning, those crinkles appearing around his eyes. His lips cracked and bled even more.

David smiled back. "Hey, man, you scared us." He motioned for the paramedics and for Colby to continue holding Charlie back. Now was not the time to have a frantic mathematician flitting around.

His boss grunted. "I-It's a t-talent," he stuttered.

The agent-in-charge shook his head before taking the cue from the medic to unlock the cuffs. His face twisted in disgust, they were Don's cuffs. The one's he had on him when he disappeared two days ago. The medic kept Don's arms where they were, putting a little bit too much pressure on.

"Sorry, Agent Eppes," the medic said when aforementioned agent moaned in protest. He loosened his hold. "I can't have you moving your arms after them being in the same position for so long, you'll do more damage than help. Okay," he addressed his co-workers. "Let's get him out of here. We'll raise his temperature gradually," he told David. "His core is probably not critical since he's so coherent and he's cold. Most victims of frostbite and such suffer from hot flashes."

"Don?" Charlie called worriedly.

Don's eyes opened a little wider and a little bit of that panic that was in his eyes when David came in dimmed back. "I'm o-okay, C-Chuck," he rasped back. He started shivering, teeth chattering.

"That's good, Agent Eppes," the medic assured. "Shiver, that's good. Your body's trying to get its homeostasis back up. Shivering will get you warmer. Okay, on the count of three we're going to slide you on the backboard. We're gonna put you sideways until we can move your arms."

On three Don squeezed his eyes shut as they moved him. He cried out when they jostled his shoulder.

"Damn," the medic swore. "Dislocated shoulder." He turned Don's face towards him. "Agent Eppes, I'm going to need you to open your eyes as wide as you can." He flicked his penlight, checking for pupil reaction. "Concussion. Pretty severe. You had quite a beating, didn't you, Agent?"

Don didn't answer. His whole body went lax, head lolling boneless-ly.

Charlie lunged forward. "Don! Don!"

The medic and David swore at the same time. Charlie, lanky mathematician, managed to over power shocked FBI Agent Colby. He ran up to his brother's side, grabbing at him only to be pulled back by Colby again.

"Charlie, stop," said Colby. "Let the professionals handle this."

"He's not breathing!" The medic shouted. He turned Don onto his back despite being hesitant earlier. The need to get Don breathing was more important that his muscles seizing and joints locking. Another paramedic instantly bagged him as the first medic started CPR. "Come on, Agent Eppes."

David moved out of the way, but he couldn't pull his hand away from Don's too cold leg. "Breath, Don."

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, muttering numbers under his breath. Colby wasn't even trying to keep him back anymore, there was no point. The professor wasn't moving.

"…No! Don!"


	2. Part 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs.

Not the last chapter.

* * *

Left in the Cold

Numb3rs

Mikkal

Part 7

* * *

He dreamt of snowmen and Jack Frost nipping at his nose. When he woke up his nose was colder—and moist, condensation?—than the rest of his body, his fingers and toes melting under something soft and warm. Everything was defrosted and just slightly chilled, allowing everything to start aching instead.

It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would—dull and a type of numb you didn't get from cold. More like meds, _a lot _of meds. Don made the mistake of shifting, pain flaring up. He groaned.

Then warm fingers touched his cheek. "Donnie? You waking up?"

His eyelashes stuck together, but he managed to open his eyes to see his father hovering over him with tears tracking down his face. _Dad_, he tried to say. His mouth was cotton; he couldn't even get a croak out. Not that it would be heard, what with the oxygen mask in the way.

His dad gave him a wobbly smile. "Hey, Donnie," he whispered. He turned away ever-so-slightly, keeping Don in view with one eye. "Robin, Charlie, wake up."

Don glanced over to see Robin sitting in an uncomfortable attempt-to-be-plush chair; well sleeping was more like it. Her face was directed towards the hospital bed Don was in and her hand was resting on top. Charlie was asleep on the floor, resting his head on her thigh, also facing Don. He couldn't keep the small grin off his face despite that it hurt.

Charlie woke up first with a jump. He glanced around wildly before spotting Don. The smile that appeared lit up his whole face, shaving years off. He scrambled to his feet and rushed to Don's side, waking Robin up. She too hurried to his side.

"I'm so glad you're awake," she said quietly, tearing up. She looked ragged and stressed, shadows under her eyes and her hair a tangled mess. She still looked so beautiful.

"I'll get the doctor," his dad said quickly, leaving his little brother and girlfriend behind.

Robin sniffed and ran her hands through his hair; he closed his eyes at the touch. "You're okay," she said, voice wavering in her joy. "You're okay," she said again. She slid a hand under the top blanket and wrapped her warm fingers around his.

Charlie wormed his way to his other side and put a solid hand on his shoulder. "Amita and Larry are getting us breakfast," he said. His voice sounded broken, but as he continued it got stronger. "Every one else is at the FBI, filling out the paperwork you left them." He smiled with a little laugh.

Don huffed a laugh too then groaned, bringing his free hand from under the blanket to his burning throat. That hurt a lot, almost too much. Not to mention moving his arm seemed like it was equivalent of having a red hot knife jammed into every joint and nerve cluster and muscle.

"You got a bad beating, Don," Robin said softly. "Then locked in a industrial freezer, you're gonna hurt for a while. On the plus side, all the guys who got you are dead."

He raised an eyebrow as if to say _all five of them? _Don got one of them, he knew that much. That was what led him to getting locked in the freezer. He hoped it wasn't any of his team to kill them, which would lead to a mess of IA and paperwork investigating whether or not anyone had been compromised.

Charlie nodded. "All five. You got one. They shove you in the freezer. Another one started backing out so she was killed." That sounded about right. She wasn't completely comfortable with it all. He felt kind of bad for her in the long run. "Three left, one killed himself because, and I quote, 'he was too beautiful for prison.'"

Don laughed a silent laugh at that even though just the thought of it hurt. Yeah, that sounded like him. How could such nice kids end up like that?

"And the last two were in an accident trying to get away. Liz and Nikki put up a car chase, but the bad guys ran a light and got T-boned by a semi." Wow, Charlie sounded kind of smug and/or happy about that.

Don frowned, that wouldn't do. His little brother—his naïve, twitchy _little_ brother should not have that kind of view on people. It was him who should be the jaded one, the one glad when someone dies (a bad guy), not the mathematician.

He opened his mouth to say just that, but he choked instead. And then, suddenly, he couldn't breath. He tired, oh man did he try. Don tired taking small breaths, thinking it was his lungs that were the problem. He tried doing it slowly, doing his best not to panic. He tried leaning over the bed to get a better angle.

None of it worked.

Then there were hands on his shoulders and people shouting, his vision fuzzed gray at the edges and worked in. He closed his eyes and the panic started swelling up, engulfing him until it felt as if he was drowning.

Drowning in ice-cold water, never getting warm, slowly freezing.

"Agent Eppes. _Don_. Breathe. Calm down and breathe."

Don sucked in a breath, the air tasting bitter and settling thickly on his tongue. It worked though, he could breath. And he breathed and breathed until a hand touched the back of his neck and he was startled to realize he was propped up.

"Don," Robin said softly. The hand—her hand—massaged his neck, fingers carding through the fine hairs there. "You're hyperventilating. You _have_ to calm down."

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and crushed some of the blanket in his fist and forced himself to breathe normally. He couldn't get the rhythm down, it felt too slow or too fast. Until there was a moment, a feeling. And then it took a few seconds—felt like an eternity—but he was finally able top open his eyes and see without it graying.

Robin smiled. "There we go," she said, her voice obviously deliberately steady.

Someone had his hand; his palm pressed against something solid and moving. He looked over to see his hand flat on his father's chest and his dad breathing slowly and exaggerated.

The doctor hovered around the machines surrounding him before she smiled. "Agent Eppes," she said. "It'd be best if you didn't do anything, talking or laughing. Your throat suffered a lot of trauma. I'm surprised you managed to call out for help."

He moved a shoulder in a shrug and the proved to be a bad idea.

"Yeah," the doctor said. "Don't do that either." It was obvious she was keeping her voice level and calm and ever-so-slightly teasing to keep him still and compliant. "We've got you on some nice drugs, but you're still going to be very sore. It's going to be even worse when we have to take you off them. That won't be for a while, though."

Charlie reached over and touched Don's temple, his hands shaking. "You're going to give me a heart attack," he told him.

He ignored the pain and reached over to grab Charlie's wrist, pressing his thumb to his little brother's pulse point, and trying to convey what he wanted to say without saying it.

His brother turned his arm, not dislodging Don's hold, and grabbed his wrist in return, mirroring his actions. Charlie smiled and Don smiled back.


	3. Part 2

Disclaimer: don't own numb3rs

I made some changes to part 7 (chapter 2) that are slightly relevant to plot but kinda, maybe not really.

* * *

Left in the Cold

Numb3rs

Mikkal

Part 2

* * *

She wasn't very large but she knocked the air out of David's lungs. He stayed where he was, hand tight over the file. She, on the other hand, crashed to the ground and her papers went fly. Colby smothered a little laugh; Don knelt down and helped her pick up her things. A second later, David and Colby did the same thing.

"Thank you," she mumbled, blushing a bright red. "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." She glanced up and her eyes widened just a fraction before flitting down to her papers. "Sorry," she said again. Then she rushed off.

Don stood up, wiping his hands together. "What was that about?" He asked.

David frowned. "I don't know. It was weird though."  
"College kid at CalSci," Don said after a moment. "Of course she's weird." He smiled teasingly before leading the way to Charlie's office.

Colby tapped David's arm and, when the agent turned towards him, said in a low tone. "Did you see the way she looked at Don?"

He nodded, glancing at his boss' back. "Keep a look out," he said quietly. "Something's telling me something's wrong."

"That woman?"

"Possibly," David replied. "Or this case. I don't know. Just…keep one eye open."

Colby smiled. "Always do."

* * *

"I figured out why I recognized you."

Don glanced up to see the same woman who ran into David about a week ago. He swallowed the sip he just took and looked around, checking for his brother, before he answered with, "You did?"

She smiled but there was something unsettling about it. "You're Dr. Eppes' brother, aren't you?" She let out a small chuckle. "I've seen you around school before." She glanced away and back. "I've gotta go, I'd just thought I'd tell you what I realized." And then she was gone.

He watched her go with a quirked eyebrow. "Okay," he said slowly. "That was weird."

"What was weird?" Charlie asked, sitting down across from him after finally appearing for lunch.

Don waved a hand dismissively. "Just one of your students. They're all weird, but this one more than usual."

Charlie laughed. "Thanks," he said. "You just know the right things to say to a teacher."

"Hey, it's what I do."

* * *

"Agent Eppes!"

Don turned around to see a young man hurrying towards him with a large smile splitting his face. He stiffened a little—instinct—but Robin's arm entwined with his tightened a bit and he relaxed slightly.

"Can I help you?" He asked as politely as he could. Robin's grin caught his eye and he couldn't help but smile back.

The young man stopped and panted, leaning over and resting his hands on his knees. He took a moment to catch his breath. "Sorry," he gasped. He took one last deep breath. "I just wanted to say thank you."

Don's eyebrows furrowed. "For what?"

"All your hard work," he said brightly. There was something…off about him though. "I've seen you on the news. I know people in the military and you're protecting our country as much they are so you deserve the thanks too."

"…Thank you," he said slowly, but smiled at least some so he wouldn't be misconstrued as something else other than sincerity. "Thank you," he said again. "I do my best."

"Keep it up!" The young man gave a thumbs up and then dashed off again. A CalSci badge clipped to his book bag. It flashed strangely.

"That was weird," Robin commented. They turned back in the direction they were going and kept walking to the restaurant they were meeting Charlie and Amita.

"Yeah, no kidding." He glanced back around for a moment before looking back. A second later he frowned. "That's not the only weird encounter I've had in the last two weeks. There was this woman. From CalSci too."

Robin chuckled. "They're from CalSci, Don. No offense, of course they're a little weird."

Don laughed loudly, throwing his head back. "That's what I said!"

* * *

A file slapped on his desk, Don jerked up to see Liz grinning down at him.

"I scare you?" She teased.

Don scoffed. "No way." He flipped open the file. "What's this?"

"Cold case, six years," she replied, sitting on the corner of his desk as he went through the papers. "I pulled it out because there was a tip earlier about the killer. First tip in five years." She tapped the post-it note she put in there. "I'd figured you would want to look through it with the tip, see if something comes up. You were lead, you know the most."

"Yeah," he said, sounding distracted. Liz could almost believe she could see the gears moving in his head. Kind of like how she felt that she could see the numbers streaming in Charlie's. "Yeah," he repeated. "How do we know it's not a dummy tip? Someone getting kicks off of calling the FBI?"

"We don't," Liz replied. "But you never know."

"Yeah."

Great, now he was on his broken record shtick. She was never going to get anything out of him.

* * *

Charlie paused in his explanation to see Don sitting in the back row, scanning his students like he was on some sort of operation. When someone raised a hand he shook himself out of it and went back to teaching his "Math for Non-Maths" class.

It ended ten minutes later and he met his brother halfway, the bulk of the class already gone.

"Don, what are you doing here?" He exclaimed.

His older brother clapped his shoulder with a smile that made the crinkles around his eyes appear. Charlie's heart soared at that, those crinkles always appeared when Don was truly happy and his brother hadn't been truly happy in a long time.

"Can't I come see my genius brother on my day off?" Don said.

"Well, you can. But where's Robin?" Charlie went back to the front table and started packing up. "You see me every day, I'd figured you'd go out with Robin. No interruptions, not anything."

He shrugged. "She's got a case. Just 'cause it's my day off doesn't mean that it's her day off. I just guessed I could see if I could understand any of this stuff. And I have to say—." He laughed a little. "You must be getting a lot of practice explaining this stuff to the FBI."

"All in a day's work," Charlie said a little smugly. There were a few straggling students and Don was watching them with that calculating look in his eyes that Amita said Charlie got when he was working on a difficult problem. Don got it when he was running through evidence and suspects and motives. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Don hummed, distracted.

Charlie snapped his fingers in front of his face, making his brother look at him. "Are you okay?" He repeated. "You seem distracted."

Don sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I'm fine. My gut's just churning. Something's weird."

"Could be gas," Charlie offered.

Don barked a startled laugh. Oh, those were never good. "Nice one." He threw his arm over Charlie's shoulders. "Come on, let's go grab some lunch. I'm starving."

He smiled. He and his brother were getting closer and closer as the years go by, he couldn't remember the last time they had so many one-on-one lunches in a row like this.

"There's this place," he said as they left. "It's called Little Grill. Let's try that."

* * *

Everyone noticed it. Don was twitchy. Don was _never _twitchy. He was calm under pressure and cool under fire. But this was neither of those. He was always looking over his shoulder, double-checking things more often than he use to. And don't think Colby didn't see the way Don went for his gun when he was startled. It was a subtle movement, but Colby could see it.

David asked him a month ago to keep an eye out and he has. He still couldn't figure out why Don was acting this way. Robin didn't have anything, but she noticed it too. Charlie. Amita. David. Liz. Nikki. Alan. They all saw it, but they didn't know why.

And Don wasn't talking.

That worried him. Don wasn't a talker; he wasn't the visibly emotional type. But he knew his limits; he knew when he needed to talk to someone. This wasn't the case; Don should've talked about what ever it was a long time ago. Colby highly doubted Don could pass a psych eval at the moment.

He leaned against he doorframe and watched Don pour himself some coffee, not even adding milk. He always added milk.

"Hey, Colby." Don raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"Are you okay?" He asked as bluntly as he could without spooking one of the best agents he knew. "You seem a little off."

Don shook his head, chuckling a bit. "I'm fine," he said. "Trust me."

* * *

He should've expected this. Really, he should have. Don groaned and felt the back of his head, the throbbing spot was too warm and wet. His fingers shone dark in the cellphone light. The cellphone light that kept proving he was getting no signal.

Don slammed a fist against the bottom of the trunk. "Damn it," he hissed.

They jumped him out of nowhere. There were five all together, but two of them stayed in the car. The three were large, jumping him when he pulled over to grab some take-away.

The car started to slow down before someone shouted and the car sped up drastically. It went over a speed bump and his head connected with the lip of the trunk sharply.

He blacked out.


	4. Part 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs.

There is the possibility that the whole story will not be told. Any questions left unanswered are meant to be left unanswered.

* * *

Left in the Cold

Numb3rs

Mikkal

Part 8

* * *

Nikki took a sip of coffee and rubbed her temples. "Why are we here?" She ground out. "Why the hell are we filling out this stupid paperwork? The case is closed, we should be at the hospital."

David dropped another stack of papers in front of her. "The case isn't close, not completely," he said. His voice was tense and cool, slightly better than it had been the two days Don was gone, but he was still stressed. "I want this paperwork filled out to the letter and by the book. I don't want there to be any chance IA has to investigate us for compromised mentality. Don doesn't need that right now." He walked away.

"Damn," Nikki breathed, watching him go.

Colby leaned back a bit in his chair, working out the creaks in his fingers. "David's known Don longer than we have," he explained. "This is the first time a case before he came on board affected Don so badly. He feels a little guilty."

"He shouldn't," Liz added. "But he does." She ran a hand through her hair. "The sooner we fill this out, the sooner we can see Don. So stop complaining."

"David's not—."

"Don't even go there, Nikki," Colby interrupted. "He's Agent in Charge and the AD's demanded in-person updates. Since this is over this update's gonna take a little longer. _Then _he's going to do his paper work."

Nikki backed down a little bit. Colby sounded beat. Liz looked disheveled. David, admittedly, looked as if he was going to collapse any minute. She was sure she didn't look any better. Honestly, now was not he time to pull out any of her "stubborn sass."

And if what Colby said is true then the three of them were going to be able to visit Don long before David would even get the chance. It wasn't like they could do some of his paperwork for him to lighten the load; this wasn't a television show or a movie.

Nikki dropped her eyes back to the rest of her work, complementing whether or not she should go slower so she could match up at least a little bit to the pace David was setting. Chances were (Charlie could probably give her an exact probability) she was still going to finish early, but waiting around for ten or so minutes after she was done wouldn't look too suspicious. Would it?

It probably would. If she got caught she'd just come up with something. She's a Federal Agent; she could lie a little convincingly to her fellow agents.

* * *

Liz had a good idea of what Nikki was planning. As soon as the other woman stopped complaining due to the verbal beat down from Colby she started going slower on her paperwork. She didn't want David to get left behind. Liz smiled, well it was safe to say Nikki was finally learning that her stubborn sass wasn't the way go through the Bureau.

She exchanged glances with Colby and he nodded. He stood up and stretched, cracking his knuckles and back.

"I'm going for take-away," he announced. "Nikki, you're with me." Liz grimly agreed with the thought probably running through his head. No one was going to go alone anywhere for a long while. "Liz, you want anything?"

"Yeah," she said. "Grab something for David too. We'll force him to eat if we have too."

Colby chuckled a little. "Don't wait up," he called as the two of them started leaving. "We're gonna take a long as we want."

Liz rolled her eyes. Way to be subtle, Granger.

She turned to her papers again. Well, not papers per say. Sometimes they were papers, but so much of everything nowadays was on the computer only to be printed off later for the files.

It didn't make it any easier. She could still see everything. Don's car: Abandoned. Don's wallet: dropped and riffled through. A splatter of his blood. His gun on the seat. No prints but his. And, for some bizarre reason, his shoes and socks thrown around haphazardly.

Then finding out why this even happened. Reading the case file from that.

She had heard David radio in Don's whereabouts when they found him—they were all on the same frequency and even if she and Nikki were three blocks away at the scene of the accident didn't mean she couldn't feel her heart stop at the words "freezer."

There were so many things freezers could do. There was never a quick death when they were involved. And if the house where Don had been was any indication then the slow death he could've been facing was going to be painful.

Liz dropped her head in her hands, sighing loudly. This was to going well. They were going to spend so much time with psychologists in the next few weeks.

The smell of coffee roused her from her attempt to forcibly give herself amnesia without causing psychically trauma. She looked up to see Matt holding out a cup of perfection from the semi-local Spill the Beans.

"Thank you," she said, taking it with a grateful smile.

Matt smiled back. "No probably. You looked like you could use it." He squeezed her shoulder. He was one of the few people she allowed to touch her. "Tell Don, when you see him, that we miss him over here and wish him a speedy recovery."

"Will do." She saluted him with her coffee and watched him leave.

* * *

"He was being followed, can you believe it?" Colby said, mostly to thin air and partly to Nikki on their way back from getting the food. "That explains so much."

"I can't believe we didn't notice," she replied. "Or that he didn't tell us."

Colby pursed his lips. "Don always keeps things close, but he knows his limits. He would've told us if he knew."

"Wait, you're telling me the great Don Eppes didn't even know he was being followed by three high school drop out and two known criminals?" Nikki said in disbelief.

He shook his head. "He probably knew. He probably thought he was being paranoid. I mean, two of them were practically stalking him through Charlie for about two months."

Nikki shot him a look. "Two months? How do you figure?"

"He was jumpy for about a month, but there had to be some build up," Colby reasoned. "They weren't experienced so their stalking was probably sparse for the first month. The woman, she ran into David—literally—and she acted suspicious, but not too much. And then they started approaching him personally."

"Stalkers aren't that brave at first," Nikki continued, following along. Colby grinned. She was catching up to how federal agents thought. "They're slow to build up to anything physically. But I always thought it took longer than two months?"

"It could." Colby turned onto the last stretch of road. "But there were five people with more than one type-A personality. It it was just one type-A it'd take a little longer, but there were more. That speeds things up."

"And how do you know all of this?"

He shrugged. "I've been around a few experts, you can't help but pick some things up." Some experts being an understatement, Megan was brilliant.

"You pickin' up some of that math stuff too?"

"Actually, yeah I am."

* * *

David could hear the team milling around behind him as he finished up the last few pages of his paperwork. He grinned. When Colby gave him his food he had a feeling they were all going to take as much as time as they could so they could all go to the hospital at the same time.

He was very grateful for that.

"Okay," he said a few minutes later. "Let's go."

They all got deer-caught-in-the-headlights looks, making him laugh. "Guys," he said, tone teasing. "At this point, with the stress and lack of sleep, you aren't exactly subtle."

Colby chuckled. "Right." He grabbed his coat. "You think the hospital will let us in this late?"

"If not," Nikki said. "We've got badges. I'm pretty sure we can just force our way in to at least _see_ Don. I don't even mine if I don't talk to him."

Liz nodded. "I agree. If he's asleep that's okay."

"Then come on."

"I'll catch a ride with you, David." Colby followed him to his car. Liz and Nikki went to their separate cares.

It took them twenty minutes to get there, another ten minutes to convince a nurse to let them through, and then another five to actually get to Don's room. The hospital was quiet, not surprising considering how late it was.

David glanced in Don's room to see the aforementioned man sleeping. Robin was sitting next to him, holding one of his hands and reading a paperback.

"Hey," he said softly, entering the room. The rest of them weren't far behind.

Robin glanced up, her mouth twitching up in a small smile. "Hey, David," she greeted. "Liz, Colby, Nikki. How are you guys?"

"A better question," Liz said. "Is, how is Don?"

Her face darkened.

"That bad, huh?"

Robin closed her book and took Don's hand in both of hers. "He can't talk," she said. "Or breathe too deeply or else he can't breath at all. He can barely move or else it hurts. And he's had two nightmares since I kicked Charlie, Amita, and Alan out three hours ago."

"Jesus," Colby breathed.

"Tell me about it," Robin said almost bitterly. "Is it sad I wish those assholes weren't dead and rotting in a cell somewhere?"

Nikki shook her head. "No, it's not. Though, I'm personally glad they're dead."

Liz tapped her chin. "I agree with Robin. Dead's too good for them."

David shook his head and opted not to get into their conversation. Instead, he kept his eyes on Don. Damn, this wasn't supposed to happen. He was his second, he was supposed to look out for his boss not let him get taken by psychopaths.

He was pale and covered in bruises, his breath hitched every now and then. His throat was dark, a necklace made from a blue and purple band. There were a few burns. His feet were thicker under the sheets, indication that they were wrapped. There had been a lot of damage done to them.

"He's doing okay, though," Robin said. "The doctor said is going to be a slow, but full recovery."

"If we can keep him still," Colby said. "Once he's better enough that it doesn't hurt to talk at least at a whisper and move just a little he's going to get itchy about being stuck here."

Liz snorted. "Oh, you betcha."

Okay, David had to laugh at that. That would so be Don.

"Good thing he has a good amount of people to keep him still and distracted, right?" Nikki joked.

"Yeah, good thing."


	5. Part 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs.

Also, thank you to Rinne for pointing out all my mistakes. I will fix them.I'm sorry they were distracting.

And, "Guest," I am American. I only lived in Europe for a few years when I was, like, four. But "take-away" is a legitimate term for Americans and Europeans. I've seen tons of fast food places be called "take-away" instead of "take-out." And that episode "Take out," I believe was a different definition of the word. I even use the word maths sometimes because it makes more sense to me. But I am American, thank you for the congratulations though. I will admit, though, that because of my Doctor Who writing (which is the British spelling and words and punctuation) I do get mixed up. I am not mixed up with using "take-away," that is deliberate.

Thank you for all the reviews!

* * *

Left in the Cold

Numb3rs

Mikkal

Part 3

* * *

There were five of them. That was already established. The woman who ran into David almost a month ago. The young man who thanked him a few weeks ago. Another man who looked the same age. And then two others who looked a lot older—one that looked vaguely familiar.

He was cuffed, arms in front and around (with his own handcuffs!) a pipe next to an old-fashion furnace in the basement (or cellar). The house was very old, even older than the Craftsman house. It should be protected as historical value, but if these people could get him here without worrying about it being an obvious place then it wasn't protected.

Or they could be oblivious and not know they were setting themselves up to be caught.

"Leave it alone," Vaguely Familiar said, glaring at the woman.

The Woman was pacing, biting her lips. "I can't believe—I know…" She tugged at her hair.

She made a sound at the back of her throat then slammed a fist into a support beam. A painting on the wall rattled. She cried out and doubled over her most likely broken hand. No one even looked concerned.

Painting. His head was a little fuzzy from the blow, but Don could've sworn that painting looked…He groaned. Oh you've got to be kidding me.

"Go get some ice," the other young man (Old Friend for the lack of a better name) said. "Your knuckles are going to look very ugly if they swell up too much." He looked in a nearby mirror and fixed his hair.

"What are we doing?" Young Man asked. "This is completely ridiculous."

The Woman never went for that ice. Her face was scarily blank and almost murderous. How old was she? 19? 20? "It's not ridiculous," she said angrily. "He deserves what he gets."

"I'm sorry," Don said. His head throbbed. What the hell did they hit him with? "I'm sorry about your mom, but this isn't—."

"Shut up!" She screamed. And then she took a 180, her face smoothed out and she looked like a child. She sniffled and wiped her face. "I'm gonna go get some ice."

The Young Man sighed. "I'll go with you." He gently grabbed her elbow and led her upstairs.

Vaguely Familiar shook his head and turned to the other older man (Other Man). "Why are we teamed up with this crazy chick?" He muttered. "We could've gotten him ourselves."

"Do I know you?" Don asked.

Other Man sneered and slammed the butt of a gun on the side of his head. Don lurched, just barely avoiding landing on a steaming, red-hot pipe from the furnace. His vision fuzzed and went dark for a minute.

He came back to Vaguely Familiar telling the Other Man that they should've done this themselves because now they were going to get caught because of the girl they were teaming up with.

Don shook his head, trying to rid himself of the fuzzy feeling, though it ended up doing nothing but make his head swim more. "Let me go then," he said. He tried to say it sternly and like they had no other choice, but it didn't exactly come out that way.

"Not a chance," Young Man said. He handled his gun with inexperienced hands, shaking and trembling, probably sweaty. "You deserve this. For all the crap that you pulled. You should be dead already." He scowled at the older men. "But they have a bone to pick with you too so it's not gonna be so quick."

"I don't even know you!" Don exclaimed.

"No you don't," Vaguely Familiar said, there was a glint in his eyes. "No, you don't," he repeated. "But we know all about you, Agent Donald Eppes. You've put a lot of good men in jail. It's my job to help out those men by putting the real bad guys behind bars."

Don stared at him him silently, stuck dumbfounded. "You've gotta be kidding me."

The Other Man snarled again (Note to self: he had anger-management issues) and lashed out with his fist this time, probably forgetting he had a gun. He got Don right on the cheek, sending his face against a pole and then his temple against a furnace. He dropped all pretense of being in control and cried out as the heat seared his skin. Don realized what he was doing and clamped his mouth shut, biting harshly on the inside of his cheek.

"Damn," someone said, sounded far away in a tunnel. "I was hoping for more screaming."

Someone grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him away from the pain, though his head smacked against something. He leaned on the solid support; his eyes closed and sweat dripping down his face. He's been burned before, close proximity to bomb explosions will do that to you, but this seemed worse.

And theses people seemed crazy, the balance of power unstable and threatening to collapse any moment. And The Woman, she seemed to be the root of it all.

And he didn't know why Vaguely Familiar seemed, well, vaguely familiar, but he did know he'd never met the man face to face before so it was probably a photo or something.

Knowing his luck he was most likely a dangerous fugitive who decided to target any agent in any city and Don just managed to be in at the wrong time. Or he was psycho enough to be influenced by an emotionally unstable 19 year old girl who blamed him for her mother's killer never behind brought to justice.

Don kept his eyes closed. He was going to try and get through his will as little mental and emotional trauma as possible. Physical was okay as long as he didn't die. But if he did die…he didn't want that burden to go on the younger three. They seemed half-cocked and going on a whim.

His gun was gone, his shoes (why were his shoes gone?), his wallet and ID were too. He shifted ever so slightly. But his keys were there. Car, apartment, Craftsman, locker, and handcuff (easily detachable. It wasn't exactly advised to keep handcuff keys with the rest, but he always had an extra attached anyway for situations like this.)

They were in his jacket pocket. Why they didn't take them he wasn't going to question. A stroke of luck was something not to be taken for granted (he could hear his dad in the back of his mind doing a crosswords puzzle with the answers "Plot Hole" and "Deus Ex Machina" even though Don himself barely knew what those words meant."

"Come on," Old Friend said. He was starting to recognize voices. "I'm starving. I'm sure you two are too. Let's go, he can't do anything."

There was grumbling and argument but the two men finally gave in. Don blinked in surprised when the door closed. Maybe Vaguely Familiar wasn't a dangerous fugitive after all, they seemed family dense. Ian or Coop would've gotten to them a long, long time ago.

Don didn't waste this opportunity. He pulled himself closer to the pull he was cuffed to and used his fingers tips and legs to pull his jack forward to pinch his keys. He held his breath when they jingled a little bit too loudly.

No one came down.

His head throbbed, his cheek ached, and he was very, very tired. How long had his been since he stopped for take-away? Did his team know his was gone? What about his brother and dad?

A quiet _click _interrupted his thoughts and it wasn't long until his hands were free. He stood up and swayed for a brief second, his vision greying. He took a deep breath and started to look around for some sort of weapon.

He found a clump of pipes probably meant to fix up the house. Don started over only to hiss and try not to cry out _again. _His feet burned like he'd just knocked against the hot pipe, but when he looked down all he saw was blood and broken glass and snails scattered around. Damn it!

Don stood on his toes and did his best to maneuver around it. He grabbed a discarded pipe. He chose a spot near the bottom of the stairs, off to the side and held it up like a baseball bat. Muscle memory made him even hold it properly.

It provided a very good swing if he did say so himself.

Keeping the grip he sat down gingerly so there wasn't any more pressure on his feet. The blood was slowing, clotting and the glass keeping it plugged.

Don glanced at this watch. Six hours since he was gone. Making it around 2 am. Since he never made it to Charlie's then they'd know something was wrong.

He sat in silence for a long time.


	6. Part 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs

This story takes place in season 5 but before "The Fifth Man."

This is part 9 of 9, but there are 3 chapters left. In no particular order, part 1, part 4, and 5.

* * *

Left in the Cold

Numb3rs

Mikkal

Part 9

* * *

"Well, Eppes, if you keep catching my fugitives we may need to have a little talk."

Don glance over to see Ian Edgerton leaning agains the doorframe. He smiled brightly and gestured for the sniper to come in.

Ian did so and sat down. "Seriously. I'm pretty sure that's my job." He chuckled when Don glared at him. "Don't argue." He laughed again when Don's glare intensified. "Oh, that's right. You can't."

Don scribbled something on a small white board and held it up for Ian to see. It was something entirely inappropriate and not something Ian felt like saying out loud in fear of the nurses' wrath.

Ian leaned back. "You're probably wondering why I'm here and how I found out you were hurt in the first place?"

In response the injured man shut off the television and turned expectantly towards the taller man. Ian stared at him for a moment. It was incredibly weird to have Don Eppes not speaking. The man wasn't much of a talker, but he was never _this _much of not talker.

"This man," he said with no preamble, holding up a photo. "Was a fugitive. He murders officers and agents who he believes have put the wrong people in jail or he helps murder agents who let murders go free."

Don scribbled something else on the board and held it up, showing the words _Vaguely Familiar._

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what that means." Don gave him an un-amused look. "But I can guess. This man's been on the fugitive list for a few weeks, sent out to every FBI field office. You should've gotten an email."

Don nodded, indicating that, yes, he got the email. That probably explained why Don called him Vaguely Familiar. Email went out weeks ago and it was only for a heads up for the non-fugitive recovery teams so it would make sense Don wouldn't remember his name on features.

"His prints were flagged," he said. "I was halfway here anyway when I got the alert. I headed to the office first, go the story there. Came by to see if you were dead."

Don rolled his eyes, smirking.

"Where's the Professor?"

_Coffee._

"Ah." Ian nodded. "I'm assuming they haven't taken your statement yet. When can you talk?"

Don made a face and answered with _one week._

"Can you talk?" Ian asked. "Don't. But can you? The doc's the one saying not to talk to get yourself to heal a little more, right?"

He nodded. He really didn't seem to like not being able to talk. It was obvious that Don was just itching to say something, anything. He kept fidgeting in a way he only saw the Professor do. And he couldn't do the compulsive tic of checking his watch because the nurses made him take it off; it was getting in the way of all the tubes and wires.

Don could see the amusement on Ian's face and gave him a hard glare that did absolutely nothing.

Charlie chose that moment to walk in, coffee and juice in hand. "Ian! When did you get here?"

* * *

Robin squeezed the handles and pushed Don along the paved pathway into the garden. She could tell he was trying really hard not to make any complaints or whine. She didn't really blame him, unable to talk for two weeks and not walk for six weeks could be tough for an active guy like him.

"It's a nice day," she said. True, the sky was clear and blue and the weather was warm but not too hot.

Don nodded, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to let the wind ruffle his hair. "It's beautiful," he said, voice still a little hoarse. He smiled and dragged his fingertips over the back of her hand.

She laughed and leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead. "You're ridiculous."

"All part of my charm."

That made Robin kiss the tip of his nose, making him scrunch up his features like she had offended him in some way and he rubbed his nose. She laughed again and kept pushing, leading them to end up in a small area near a bed of flowers and a small picnic table.

"This isn't hospital food, is it?" Don asked as he handed her the basket that had been sitting on his lap.

Robin began pulling out a jug and a few Tupperware's. "It's not. I think Alan is more tired of you eating hospital food that you are."

He chuckled. "I would say I didn't think that was possible, but knowing him it is. Did he make all of this?"

She nodded. "All with the permission from your doctor too. So it won't hurt to eat."

Don gently rubbed his throat. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

They sat in comfortable silence as they chowed down on their sandwiches. She peeled an orange for them both and set out some strawberries. He rolled his eyes with a fond smile and she threw a piece of shredded turkey that fell out of her sandwich at him.

"You get your statement done?" She asked.

Don swallowed his bite. "Yeah, David got it yesterday." He looked a little uncomfortable but added, "Bradford was there too."

She looked at him in concern. "Is everything alright? Are _you _alright?"

"I'm fine," he assured. She gave him a look saying she didn't quite believe him. "I am," he said steadily. "It was just routine. I killed someone. I was more or less tortured. It's SOP to have someone like Bradford on hand during statement taking."

Robin didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she didn't feel ill when he said "killed someone" and "tortured." She knew a lot and saw a lot, whether it was first hand or second hand, but it was so much harder when it was someone who you loved.

He reached over and put a hand over hers. "I'm fine," he reiterated. "I promise."

She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips, letting it erase the fears that had been building it up every night she had to sleep alone in Don's apartment. He was alive, he was healing. Everything was okay.

* * *

The stairs creaked and Charlie froze, wincing. He held his breath for a few seconds to make sure his dad or Don wasn't waking up. Nothing happened so he continued to the ground floor.

He told himself he was only down here to grab a glass of water and maybe a brownie. Dad made some double-chocolate brownies yesterday, they were supposedly for Don because "that horrible hospital food probably has his blood sugar low and I will not have my son passing out just when he get's home."

Charlie told himself that was the reason, but he found himself heading straight for the living room where Don was sleeping on the couch. A very common place to find him whenever he was injured enough to warrant a hospital visit. Unlike other times, though, when he took the couch because he like the couch, this time he was taking it because his feet were still to sore to handle the stairs and all that walking.

Don looked years younger, probably around Charlie's age instead of his own. Being an FBI agent put so much stress on him. He would believe it was the same with him, since working with the FBI there have been comments. He's only been with the FBI for about five years, he couldn't imagine what it was like for Don.

He sat down in a chair close by and watched his brother's chest move up a down. He's come close to losing his brother before, and it's going to be close again. For all he knew Don could be stabbed a few months from now.

But it never got any easier, seeing his big brother be brought down and broken like this. It wasn't as bad as other times, but it was still bad.

There was a patch on Don's temple that was shiny and red, Charlie reached out to brush his fingers on the outer edge of it. Don stirred and shifted, making him back up a bit and his heart beat fast.

Too late.

Don's eyes cracked opened and his eyebrows furrowed. "Chuck?" His voice thick from sleep and probably because his throat still hurt. "What are you doing up?" He heaved himself up to a slouching sitting position. "Everything okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine. I just came for some water, maybe a brownie."

Don raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down. "A glass of water, huh? Sure."

Charlie flushed. "Ha, ha. I was just… worried, I guess."

He nodded. "I don't blame you. But, Chuck, seriously, I'm fine."

"What do I have to do to get you to stop calling me that?" Charlie grumbled, making Don laugh. Those eye crinkles he's heard so many of his students talk about whenever Don visited and the ones that indicated true laughter and smiles appeared. Charlie couldn't help but smile back.

"Ah, Chuck," Don teased. "I don't think anything will work."

"How 'bout some of dad's brownies?" Charlie offered.

Don seemed to think about it for a long moment before he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "That _might _work. I don't know, though. You could always give it a try."

Charlie rolled his eyes, but got up anyway to grab the whole plate of brownies and two glasses of milk. He settled back in his seat with a movie playing.

"Harry Potter?"

"What? I can't like movies about wizards? Sorry, I didn't know that was against the law."

He chuckled. "Is it? You tell me, Mr. FBI Agent."

Don smacked him with a pillow and stole the plate of brownies.


	7. Part 5

Disclaimer: I don't own numb3rs

Two chapters left. The FBI (plus Charlie's) POV on the two days and the last chapter that I'm not going to tell you what about, you'll just have to read it. This is a crappy chapter. I"m sorry. I'm terribly sorry.

* * *

Left in the Cold

Numb3rs

Mikkal

Part 5

* * *

Don jerked awake when he heard the lock in the door, his internal clock scrambled for a moment before it decided it had only been about three hours. He gripped the pipe and made himself breathe slowly. His head swam and throbbed, his feet had clot a little but there were still oozing slowly. He struggled to them anyway despite the pain just as the stairs began to creak of someone walking down.

Someone was talking loudly, it sounded like Young Man. He saw the back on one of the two younger men and swung out, smacking whomever it was on the back of the head. He could've hit harder, but the state of his head and feet threw off his swing too much. Don fell to the floor in a haze of sharp pain that the same time Old friend did.

There was thunder as everyone else rushed down to the basement.

Old friend groaned and felt the lump on his head. He moaned in distress. "That's going to leave a mark!" He exclaimed. "My head is going to be misshaped! It's going to be ugly!"

Vaguely Familiar growled and yanked Don up by the hair. He yelped and it took a moment before he could fight back. He twisted the man's wrist and knocked is legs from underneath him, sending them both crashing to the ground (again, in Don's case). Don lunged for the pipe again and swung out blindly. There was a broken cry then silence. He crack his eyes open to see Young Man slumped agains the wall, face bloody and shattered.

Don choked a little, nausea whirling in his stomach. No. He didn't, did he?

"Brain!" The Woman shrieked, running to his side. She felt the broken man's neck and sobbed. "He's dead! He's dead!"

"God damnit!" The Other Man shouted. He stalked over and straddled the still down Don, locking his legs so there was basically no point in struggling. "Who the fucking hell left keys on him?"

Don struggled anyway, bucking almost frantically. This man was not a rapist, you didn't need profiling skills to deduce that, but there was still the pooling of dread and panic and fear. Past cases and victim experiences flashed in his mind's eye. He swallowed thickly, or at least tried to because a hand suddenly clamped around his throat.

He gasped. A second hand joined the first, thumbs digging into the soft part of his neck.

"No! Stop! We weren't suppose to kill him!"

_Crash!_

"Scare! We were suppose to scare him! Stop it!"

His vision blackened and his lungs burned. He tried to breathe, he couldn't even gasp.

"_Stop!"_

The last thing he heard was a scream and a gunshot and then nothing.

* * *

He came to with a punch in the face. He gasped and coughed, doubling over. Don tried to touch his throat and vaguely noticed he was wearing his cuffs again.

"I was right when I said we should've have just killed him. You just grabbed a hold of the Idiot Ball and _ran _with it."

"Shut up."

"No. I'm not. Those stupid kids screwed everything up. So much for you being a great cop killer. You were a _terrible_ choice."

Don groaned. Everyone stopped talking. Good. His head was throbbing even more now. Getting choked tended to do that.

"Damnit. He's awake."

Footsteps then the cuffs were yanked by the chain, making the metal bite into his wrists. He pulled back, trying to tear himself away but it only made the skin on his wrist peel away.

Other Man yanked them again, forcing him to stand on his damaged feet.

"You're…crazy," Don wheezed past the needles in his throat.

"Are you're about to be a popsicle," he said. "I have to say, this is going to be a new way of killing for me. Fed-Pop: gunpowder and underhanded tricks."

Other Man lead him out of the van and into a freezing warehouse. He stumbled after him, his hands leveled to his knees so he had to hunch over until his back ached.

"I'm gonna go toss this junk."

Don as slammed against a wall that felt like ice against his over heated skin. The Other Man's forearm pressed against the back of his neck, making his throat dig into a pipe. His hands were un-cuffed then re-cuffed tightly behind his back.

Too tightly.

Other Man used them again to drag him to a large industrial freezer.

"You…ve…got to…be kidd…ing…me," Don protested. "seri…ous…ly?"

"You'll love it! Promise!" He said brightly.


	8. Part 4

Left in the Cold

Numb3rs

Mikkal

Part 4

* * *

_Day One-ish_

**1.**

The desk phone rang and she answered with a simple, crisp, "Warner."

"Is Don still there?"

Liz glanced at the clock. "No, he left three hours ago. Said he was picking up take-away then heading to your place. He's not there?"

Charlie's panic was so obvious that the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. "No, he's not. And he hasn't called. Are you sure he's not at the FBI? Though he would've called if he hadn't left yet, it's getting late and he always calls if he makes plans and can't keep them. Well, not always, but that's usually when he's on—."

"Breathe, Charlie," Liz said, waving David over. "Do you know what he was picking up?"

"Chinese," he said, one word but in conveyed a lot. "That Beijing place half way between the FBI and my place. It shouldn't have taken him more than an hour and a half."

"I know where it is," she assured. "David and Colby are on their way, alright?" There was no answer. "Charlie, I'm sure everything's okay. Don's tough."

The quiet breathing on the other end said everything without ever speaking a word.

* * *

**2.**

"Damn," David muttered.

Colby turned from where he was talking with the LEOs to see David holding up an evidence bag. "Is that Don's gun?" He asked then immediately regretted that, because, yeah, it was Don's gun. And his wallet and his shoes. "Keep him from running away," he said when David picked up the bag that held the pair.

"Why?" Was the single most important question to be asked that night.

"Well, I wouldn't want some who I just abducted to be able to run away," Colby said, deliberately misunderstanding the question. He ignored David's glare and peered into the SUV. "Hey, that's blood. Could be Don's."

"Or it could be our unsub," David continued. He waved over a tech. "Bag this up and send it to our lab. This is a priority case."

Colby walked around, searching for more evidence. "You think he saw this coming?"

"I think he was tricked," David replied. "Don wouldn't go down without a fight and it doesn't look like there was a struggle. I think someone posed as needing help then someone else blitz attacked him from behind."

He frowned. "So we know there's at least two."

* * *

**3.**

"Charlie!"

Charlie ignored Liz's indignant yell and bustled into the war room. He had no maps, no stacks of paper, no clever equations to write on the board, all he had was his laptop and a frantic mind.

Nikki came in after him, followed by Liz. "You should be at home," she said. "Your father going to need you and we don't have anything right now for you."

"I'm going to help anyway," he said firmly. Liz looked unsure so he widened his eyes and put a little pleading into his words to say, "Guys, _please_."

She sighed. "Alright. But you stay in here unless we say so," she ordered.

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Liz gestured out the door and a few techs came in with files upon files. "These are Don's cases from the past six months that had a duo or a team, or they had family or friends that were particularly angry with him. Use you math-magic and shorten this list."

"'Math-magic?'" He couldn't help but repeat amusedly. Charlie flicked open on of the boxes and took out the stack. "I'll get right on that."

Liz nodded. "And remember, no wandering," she tossed over her shoulder as she left.

Nikki waited a few seconds before heading out herself, she looked as if she had wanted to say something but changed her mind.

Charlie nodded absently. There were so many cases. So many people out to get his brother. Not that it was surprising, Charlie felt he knew better than most people (other than agents) how many enemies catching the bad guys got you. But he never imagined anyone getting close enough to actually take Don right under their noses.

If they hurt him they would be sorry. He may not be the most physically fit person out there, but he had connections. Charlie could pull some strings and make sure these bastards never saw the light of day again. Or even the light of a blub.

The paper in his hands crinkled. He focused and was started to see the paper slowly crumpling as he tightened his fists with each passing thought.

Now was not the time to let his emotions run rampant. This was not a time for P vs. NP. Even though the equations, for some reason (though that reason was pretty obvious), weren't coming, he was going to force them to.

For Don.

* * *

_Day Two-ish_

**4.**

"We got a hit," Colby shouted from where he and David were hovering over the tech's shoulder.

The four of them (Amita had come in last night to help Charlie) more or less rushed into the room to see the screens dominated by a gorgeous young woman with deep bags under her eyes.

"This is Nina LeClaire," the tech said. "Arrested a year ago on a DUI charge. Her mother was killed by a serial killer six years ago. Don was point on the case. The killer was never found."

"That's a good motive for abduction," David stated. "She got anyone else?"

The tech nodded. "A friend and a boyfriend." He tapped a few keys to pull up their mug-shots

"They don't seem very put together to pull this off," Colby said. "I mean, Don is smart, he's capable. These three…I don't think it's just these three."

"You're right, it's not."

They turned around to see Ian Edgerton standing at the door.

"Ian," Nikki said, surprise showing on her face. "I didn't know you were in town."

"Just got here," he said, duffle over his shoulder. He came in fully, pulling out some folded paper from his pocket. He spread them out to reveal them as fugitive wanted posters. "I was tracking down these two. One of them is a cop killer, revenge driven."

And that sobered the hopeful atmosphere that had been building.

* * *

_Day Two-ish_

**5.**

It took non-stop searching to even figure out where this girl lived currently, let alone her history. Her arrest record was a little easier, but everything else was sealed or corrupted due to incompetent county files and local police work. Don would've figured this out much sooner, but, then again, he knew more about the case anyway.

When they did find out where she currently lived Liz had to resist face-palming. _Of course _that's where the bitch lived now. _Of course. Of course. _

There was no justified point for the entire team, including Charlie, going to the girl's mother's house. They were angry and tired and worried beyond belief.

What they found tapered that worry, but did nothing to the anger.

They found dead body, but they didn't care. With detached professionalism they secured the scene and let the CSIs do their thing.

Liz searched the sorry excuse for an office while David searched the kitchen, Nikki took the bedrooms upstairs and Colby checked outside with Ian. Charlie hovered in the background, his nervousness stifling.

He couldn't believe this was happening. This wasn't suppose to happen. First Megan so many years ago and now Don. They were the big bad federal agents with guns and tech and kick-ass moves. They weren't suppose to be abducted, especially by teenagers and fugitives.

Charlie peeked over David's shoulder as the larger man went through bills and envelopes on the kitchen table. A lot of the paper was yellowed with age and water damaged, but it was unmistakable that these had belonged to the mother who owned this house and the company before she died.

"David, wait," he said.

He paused in putting down a small packet and held it out for the mathematician to get a better look.

Charlie didn't touch them, just leaned a little closer, and noticed the bill for the freezer company. It was still running due to payments from a aunt, the bill they were looking at now was just a copy. The aunt was the primary holder.

"The freezers," Charlie said. "That's the only place they would go." He resisted voicing that they were probably not smart enough to go anywhere else. The younger ones seemed to be unstable—have been for a while—and the older ones, the fugitives, probably just didn't care.

From the look on David's face he was thinking around the same lines.

* * *

**6.**

He thought he was immune to all sorts of grisly sights nowadays, but the sight of

Don with all those injuries and blue lips made him stumble back. Charlie almost started thinking about the statistics and numbers of Don's chances of living through his without permanent damage.

They were frightfully small numbers.

Charlie forced his way on the ambulance. They wanted to keep him out to make sure they had enough room to work, and he almost stayed back, but then decided to screw the orders. This was his older brother lying on that gurney; he wasn't going to just let him go alone.

He held his brother's hand, forcing the paramedics to work around him. His fingers were numb, and Charlie's hand slowly grew cooler as the heat transferred, but he was happy to note that the chilling blue was fading.

Don stirred slightly, his wet eyelashes fluttering. "Char…lie?" He slurred in a halting tone, barely a whisper that was harsh and terrible.

Charlie smiled down at him, rubbing his thumb across wrecked knuckles. "I'm right here, Don," he said quietly. "I'm right here."

He fell back asleep with a smile.


	9. Part 1

Left in the Cold

Numb3rs

Mikkal

Part 1

* * *

1.

Don had to cover his nose when he walked onto the crime scene. The woman, her head bashes in a brain matter splattered across the alley ground and brick walls—had been out here for a long while, he could tell that without the coroner telling him.

"Found this a few feet away," Terri said, holding out a glittery wallet. "Her name's Helen McDonald. 32. Lives in an apartment block a few streets away." Terri's face was grim when she pulled a tattered photo from behind the ID. "I'm assuming this is her daughter."

Don took it and squinted at the worn photograph. A beautiful woman with a no-more than five year old child who held a few of her features in her face were sitting on a park swing. Flipping it over revealed the picture to be about eight years old.

Which would make the kid about thirteen now. Damn.

He hated cases with kids.

* * *

2.

Elizabeth "Lizzy" McDonald didn't even notice her mother was missing. Normally Don would chalk that up to a flighty mother whose child eventually gave up on her. But the absolute distraught on Lizzy's face made Don change his mind.

Apparently the kid had been on a road trip with a friend and that friend's parent. She got home that morning to her mother missing, but she assumed she was at work.

"Who did this?" Lizzy wailed, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook with her sobs.

Don shifted a little uncomfortably. "Did your mom have any enemies? People who would want to do her any harm?"

Lizzy looked up after a brief moment, disbelief written on her face. "Of course," she said. "I mean, she's human. I'm sure tons of people hated her. I don't know to the extent—." Fresh tears trailed down her cheeks. "I don't know…I don't know who would want to, to…" She let out a loud sob.

* * *

3.

Don looked up when a shadow started hovering over his desk. "Yeah, Terri?"

She looked wary. "Lizzy McDonald would like to see you."

"Again?" He said. Now he understood her wariness. Four days after the discovery of Helena McDonald's body and the daughter has visited the Bureau every day since.

Don headed out—Lizzy didn't have clearance to enter this section of the building—to the entrance where the kid was sitting on one of the hard plastic chairs. She jumped to her feet when she noticed him.

"Agent Eppes," she said. Her hair was a rat's nest and her face was pale and drawn. "Do you have anything yet?"

He sighed every so slightly. "I'm sorry, Miss. McDonald. Nothing." He raised a placating hand. "I'm afraid your mother's case has been moved from its priority place. We had four new cases, including a recent kidnapping of—."

"Of that stupid rich bimbo's son," Lizzy snapped. "_I know."_

You know, there was a reason why things like this weren't suppose to be mentioned to family and friends.

"Just because her sugar daddy's rich doesn't mean that stupid kid takes priority over my dead mother!" Lizzy shouted, dragging the attention of some people.

This was one of those reasons.

* * *

4.

Lizzy was waiting for him at the café he normally got his breakfast when he had the time. She was leaning against the counter, talking to the barista while half-distracted. She dropped all pretenses of conversation when she spotted Don.

"Agent Eppes, any news?"

Don pinched the bridge of his nose. Day 12. "Lizzy," he said slowly. "We've talked about this. I'm afraid your mother's case has turned cold. We literally have no other leads to follow and the evidence is degraded. Other than your admirable efforts, there is no other way I can keep investigating your mother's death."

Her features pinched into an ugly mask of rage before stomping out of the café.

* * *

5.

Day 23 led to Don disconnecting his landline and searching for a new apartment. He wasn't going to pull a restraining order yet. She was only thirteen for God's Sake!

He did, though, request Social Services to get her tested for some mental and/or behavioral disorders.

* * *

6.

Day 31 really did lead to a restraining order. Which she took with much grace.

Not really.

Elizabeth McDonald was being moved to Ohio to live with her aunt while her mother's home—a heirloom, if you please, gifted from her own mother due to the fortunes of a freezer company that Helena spent a good chunk of money from on…well, crap—went into the hands of the county.

Don decided he could breathe a little easier.

* * *

7.

He felt terrible, though, for not helping more. There was no one out there not worth investigating when something terrible happened—whether it be murder or assault—and not being able to figure out who caused the death of Helena McDonald set uneasy on Don's heart.

Don reined himself into only checking on the case every now and then.. There were more cold cases piling up and more active cases that were sent his way every day. He just didn't have the time to do investigating on a case that steadily growing colder than ice as time went on.

* * *

8.

That didn't stop Don from getting a piece of mail to his office a year after the McDonald case—so much time had passed and the current stack of active cases on his mind made him have to think a little bit harder to remember who this was—that told Don that he was, on no uncertain terms, going to burn in hell for letting Lizzy's mother get shoved the background like that.

He gave it to Terri to analyze and file for future use (if there ever was going to be future use)

Then promptly, if maybe a little cruelly, pushed it to the back of his mind.

* * *

9.

Five years after that letter, pushing it to the back of his mind turned out to be less-than-conducive to the grand scheme of things.


End file.
